


Advise

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [277]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Morning After, birthday fic, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Advise: verb: ud-VYZE: to give a recommendation about what should be doneFrom Merriam-Webster:"... was borrowed into Middle English in the 14th century as avise (spelling variants with the d found in the Modern English advise began showing up in the 15th century). The word is derived from the Anglo-French aviser, itself from avis, meaning "opinion." That avis is not to be confused with the Latin word avis, meaning "bird" (an ancestor of such English words as avian and aviation). Instead, it results from the Old French phrase ce m'est a vis ("that appears to me"), a partial translation of Latin mihi visum est, "it seemed so to me" or "I decided." We advise you to remember that the verb advise is spelled with an s, whereas the related noun advice includes a stealthy c."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NovaNara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/gifts).



> For my heart sister, who shares my birthday, on the 24th. Much love, sweet sister.

"Yes, Dr. Watson?" Mycroft was busy doing whatever it was that he did, and hadn't looked up at John's entrance into his 'lair,'Sherlock's word for it, and John had to admit, it did seem more like a cave than a normal office.

John sighed and tried to get comfortable in the rather uncomfortable chair. He was sure Mycroft chose it for just that reason.

"Government issued, had nothing to do with it." He finally laid aside his pen and looked across the desk at John, and waited. 

"About Sherlock..."

"You want to know why he's stroppier and screechier than usual."

John nodded and mumbled just loud enough for Mycroft to make out the words."Can you advise me? I'm a bit at a loss." 

Mycroft tried to hide a smirk, but failed. "What's today?"

"Today?"

"The date, John, what's the date?"

"Hmmm...the fifth of January."

"It's his birthday tomorrow."

John's eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open.

"Even he has a birthday, as you must have realized." Mycroft looked down at the papers he had been working on, manipulating third world economies was easier than dealing with his brother and whatever John was to him. He sighed and closed the folder again.

"Is there something - he's just plain -"

"Miserable?" Mycroft suggested, then pushed away from his desk and stood up. "Even you probably have memories of a decent birthday or two."

"Course."

Mycroft sighed and paced behind the desk for a moment before beginning."As you might have guessed, we weren't, shall we say, popular as children. I didn't mind so much, I never wanted or needed companionship, even as a child. But, Sherlock, he was different, he wanted someone to go on adventures with, play 'pirates' with...but he couldn't figure out how to..."

"Too intense?"

Mycroft looked over at John and nodded. "He wanted too much, he wanted to be 'normal.'" John almost grinned as he saw Mycroft shudder at the word, but managed to hold back. "And birthdays always reminded him how different he was. My mum tried, she did, once he had entered school, the first couple of years she sent out invitations, made cakes, hired magicians, clowns (another shudder)...but no one ever showed up. If I had been older -" John saw a look in Mycroft's eyes that he remembered from their first meeting and understood. "Eventually, he gave up, realized he was never going to be someone who has friends, people who care enough about him to -"

John nodded and got up. "He does now, Mycroft, thank you - if you aren't too busy tomorrow?"

Mycroft stopped and gazed down into John's determined face, which he recalled quite distinctly, and was glad they were on the same side. "I'll clear my schedule, let me know if you need anything."

John left as quietly as he had arrived and Mycroft sat deep in thought for a moment, before remembering where and who he was. "Sentiment." He shrugged and once again opened the folder in front of him and went back to work.

 

"John?" Lestrade looked around, expecting to see Sherlock with him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really."

"Why're ya here, then? You don't just stop for a chat, not unless something is up."

John fell into the chair and rubbed his face. "Tomorrow is Sherlock's birthday."

"Damn. That explains a lot."

"Yeah."

"So, Sherlock has a birthday."

John laughed. "Yeah. Even he has a birthday. Crazy, huh?"

"I've known him over ten years and never knew when it was."

"I live with the bloke and I didn't know. Just never came up."

Lestrade looked at John and waited.

"I want to throw him a party. From what Mycroft said, he's never had a proper one."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence until John's phone pinged.

"Eightish, at the flat?"

"I'll be there, bells on, mate, shall I bring wine or something?"

"I know it sounds silly, but could you bring some balloons?"

Lestrade's eyes twinkled, but he nodded. "Sure thing, John."

John grinned at him and they shook hands.

 

Where are you? - SH

On my way home. - JW

Can you bring some milk? - SH

Yeah, sure. - JW 

And some biscuits. - SH

And that ice cream - SH

John sighed, knowing the ice cream he meant, and he knew it was a bit not good.

Yeah. Be home in a tic. - JW

 

John shoved his mobile into his pocket and hoped tomorrow wouldn't be an unmitigated disaster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short bit, with one more to go...

John returned to the flat not quite sure what he would find, Sherlock would know he had visited Mycroft and Lestrade and he had been trying to decide on a good cover story, but as he pushed open the door to the flat, he could tell it didn't matter in the least. Sherlock was curled up on the couch, probably hadn't moved all day except to turn on the telly.

John put away the ice cream before it melted and placed the take away on the counter. At least it was still clean, which meant Sherlock hadn't attempted to blow anything up in his absence. He closed his eyes before he opened the fridge, just in case, but found it clean of any mysterious oozing packages.

"Mrs. Hudson cleaned the fridge today."

"Ah. Good. That was kind of her."

"Said it was a birthday present. Had to remind her that my actual birthday wasn't until tomorrow, but she didn't seem to care too much, she just went about her business, then ruffled my hair as she left, and suggested I get a shower before I melt into the couch, of course I told her it wasn't possible for that to actually happen..." Sherlock's words drifted off to silence.

"What are you watching?"

"Hmm?"

"What's on the telly?"

"Something about ping - penguins, nothing else on, not that it matters."

"I got some take away, you must be hungry."

"Must I?" 

"Most people feel better if they eat at least once or twice during the day."

"I'm not 'most' people, surely even you know that by now."

John sighed and dished up a bowl of curried noodles, then walked over to the couch, and muscled his way into the spot next to Sherlock. He could tell Sherlock was past the point of conversation, so he just sat quietly and watched the penguins waddle over the ice; it was funny, he thought, the kinds of things in the world that don't make any sense at all, and yet -

"That smells good."

"Uhmhmm."

Sherlock sat up and took a deep breath. "Sorry."

"What for?" John mumbled between bites.

Sherlock ruffled his hair and sighed. "It's just - it's my 35th birthday tomorrow, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I - uhm, I just didn't ever see myself getting this old, and yet -" He picked up the extra fork in John's bowl and stabbed at a bit of chicken. "Hmm, that's really quite decent."

They spent the evening arguing over what crap telly to watch as they managed to work their way through the take away and the carton of triple chocolate chunk ice cream before falling asleep on the couch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oy...this one has legs...a moody bit...

Sherlock blinked awake and rubbed his eyes, then tried to deduce how he and John ended up on the couch together, not that he minded in the least - and then he remembered what day it was. "Damn." He carefully extricated himself from the throw that Mrs. Hudson must have thrown over them, and from John's arms. "Shower. Need a shower and tea. Lots of tea." He paused and knelt next to the couch and watched as John continued to sleep, peacefully it seemed, and Sherlock wondered what would happen if he kissed him. "Ridiculous,:" he sighed as he stood up slowly, trying to work the kinks out of his back, then made his way to the bathroom.

John stretched and yawned, then dug his phone out of his pocket.

 

Hey, Mol - It's Sherlock's birthday, party @ 221B @ 8 tonight? - JW

Yes, of course. - Molly

Can you dig up something for him to work on today, then bring him with you? - JW

Ah, surprise party, he must be in quite a mood if he doesn't already know. - Molly

You have no idea. - JW

 

John turned off his phone and groaned as he took his time rolling off the couch. He knew better than to spend a night on the couch, but when Sherlock fell asleep, first leaning against his shoulder, then gradually falling into John's lap, there was no way he was going to leave him there on his own. Yes, he definitely regretted it this morning, but - tea. Need tea. Tea and toast. Hopefully he could get Sherlock to eat a piece or two. He closed his eyes and thought through all the things that needed doing, maybe Mrs. H would help him straighten up, he had the shopping to do, and what on earth could he give Sherlock that would mean anything to him... he was lost in his thoughts when the kettle went off. Almost in a trance, he made a pot of tea and put a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster, and waited.

 

I've got some nice kidneys for you today. - Molly

 

Sherlock was nibbling on a piece of toast, mostly to keep John from nagging at him, but for once, he happened to be hungry, perhaps it was the sleeping for over six hours, he didn't normally do that especially this time of year, he was usually out roaming the streets, trying to find something to help him forget, but this year, this year, he had John - John was there still, somehow. He bit his lip as he read Molly's message, then looked over at John, his face hidden in the sporting pages and he cleared his throat.

"I'm going to head over to Bart's, Molly's got something for me. I'll be back later -"

"Good. She hasn't had anything for a while." John lowered his paper and smiled at him. 

Sherlock blinked at him, then completely on impulse, took the paper from John's hands and kissed him soundly. John froze, then returned the kiss, surprising them both. Sherlock pulled away first, then quickly went for his coat and scarf, disappearing out of the door and down the steps without a word.

"Damn." John pinched his nose, then stood up and cleared the table, hoping he hadn't made a cock-up of everything.

 

I kissed Sherlock, he kissed me first, but - JW

Damn. I'll keep an eye on him - Molly

 

Molly was working on her third case of the day when Sherlock finally walked in. She took a deep breath as she looked into his eyes. "Spill it." He shook his head, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"It'll be okay, Sherlock. Promise."

"I ruined everything, Molly."

"How, sweetie?"

"I - kissed him, Molly, all he did was smile at me, and I kissed him."

"And?"

"He froze, and -" Sherlock tried to breathe, but found it difficult.

"Sit, sit down and breathe -"

He sat carefully, then took a deep breath and shuddered. "then he kissed me back, Molly. And -"

"What did you do, Sherlock?" Molly asked quietly.

"I bolted. I didn't say anything, just grabbed my coat and scarf and bolted, Molly." He looked down at his frozen fingers tightly clasped together, and closed his eyes.

"I think he'll forgive you."

"You think? I'm not so sure - the only friend, I mean, besides you, of course, and I had to go and -"

"Let's get those kidneys for you, yeah, take your mind off things."

"Right. Work. Good. Thank you, Molly."

Molly sighed, she knew he was in a bad place when he actually thanked her for something.

 

He's here. - Molly

Good, thanks. - JW

 

John slipped on his coat and wrapped the scarf that Sherlock given him at Christmas around his neck - he had been so pleased when John had opened the box and smiled as he touched it, he had never had anything so beautifully made, it was obviously handmade. He glanced up to see Sherlock watching him and their eyes met. He had known for certain then, and yet he hadn't done anything, he had let the moment slip by and now he wondered if he had waited too long. "Cake. Birthday Cake. Right." He made his way down the stairs and rolled his eyes as the snow began to fall. "Just perfect."


	4. Chapter 4

Molly and Sherlock worked quietly side by side for the next few hours, occasionally Molly would look over at him to make sure he was still there, he wasn't normally so silent, he was usually muttering about something; the weather, Mrs. Hudson's neighborhood gossip, Mycroft's latest intrusion, or something John had done that he didn't understand. Today, she was tempted to reach out and take his pulse, just to be sure -

"I don't even know why I did it."

"Why you did - oh, you mean, why you kissed him?"

"Yeah - I think it may have had something to do with -"

"With? No, you can't leave me hanging -"

"We fell asleep on the couch toget -"

Molly looked over at him, and whispered - "That's great! I mean, how did, uhm - "

"I was, hmm, being morbid about turning 35, so we shared those noodles John loves and watched some documentary about ping - penwi - damn! Penguins - and ate a pint of that triple chocolate chunk ice cream - "

"Ooooh, that's really good for those days - not that I know anything about - and....?"

"Well, I must have fallen asleep, and he didn't want to wake me, so he just stayed there. And I'm trying to figure out how I feel about that. I mean, I slept longer than I have in years, and I have to admit I liked waking up next to him, but what if he's, thinking about what happened and is deciding -"

"He's not the one who walked away, sweetie."

Sherlock's head snapped up and he finally really looked at her for the first time today. "I have always appreciated your brutal honesty, Molly. You're right. Maybe I'm just worried I'll find a way to muck it up -"

"What do you want? Have you thought it through? I mean, he kissed you back, so he must have some feelings for you -"

Sherlock slumped onto the stool and shook his head. "What if he just feels sorry for me, and I surprised him? I mean, it surprised me, kinda, sorta, I mean I've wanted to, but -"

Molly rolled her eyes at him and sighed. "Sherlock Holmes. He has lived with you for almost a year, been kidnapped, shot at, and has to deal with your noxious experiments and violin playing at all hours, he either has a great deal of feeling for you, or he's just plain masochistic."

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, then looked down at the kidneys he had been dissecting all morning, and began to laugh, quietly at first, then with a big, booming belly laugh, overly dramatic, like everything else about him. Molly couldn't do anything but laugh with him, until they both had to hold their sides as they were running out of breath.

"I think we need coffee." Molly managed to mutter as she collapsed onto the workspace.

When he could speak again, Sherlock nodded and whispered, "Yeah, coffee, would be a good idea."

 

John had managed to get a birthday cake, plates, plastic forks, cups, and decorations, but hadn't found the perfect birthday present yet, and he was running out of time. He pushed open the door to find Mrs. Hudson "not dusting" at the regular time. He nodded to her and carefully dumped everything on the kitchen counter.

"Did you find everything? You know I would have baked him a cake given enough notice -"

"Maybe next year, I know he loves your cakes." John grinned as he fell onto the couch, completely worn out and still thinking about the last few hours, wondering what it all meant, what he wanted it to mean, if anything.

Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands happily. "So, you plan on being here next year? That's lovely, dear. I knew it! He will be so pleased."

"Wait. What?" John replayed the last few words he had spoken and realized that he had basically committed to being with the madman for at least another year, if not longer. "I mean, if he wants me, I can't always tell - I mean we have days when I think - and then he vanishes, and -"

"But he always come back, dear, he always comes back to you, doesn't he, dear?"

John closed his eyes and laid back against the couch. Yes, he always did. Always.

"I can't find him a proper birthday present, Mrs. H, I mean, what can he possibly need that he can't buy himself?"

Mrs. Hudson smiled at him as she kissed his head on her way back down to her flat. "You, my dear. You are all he's ever wanted."


	5. Chapter 5

John looked at his watch again, still not quite 8. He told himself to relax, to breathe. Molly would get him there. Everything would be fine. He had laughed when Greg banged on the door with a dozen balloons, in every colour, in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. 

"I wasn't sure what colour to get so - he better appreciate this, the looks I got walking over here. If you don't mind, I'm off duty, so I'm gonna have a glass of this, not the regular old plonk either, I thought he deserved the good stuff." John had nodded and relieved Lestrade of the balloons and tied them around the flat. He wondered if it was a bit -

"Ah, balloons." Mycroft had appeared then with his normal stealth and not for the first time, John wished the man wore a bell so he could prepare himself for his arrivals and departures, which tended to be just as off-putting at times. "How very festive. I, hmmm, wasn't quite sure what one brought to this kind of thing - so, here." He shoved a bottle of very good brandy into John's hands, then walked into the kitchen. "Cake, of course, the obligatory -" then he launched into a history of cake. John rolled his eyes at Lestrade who winked at him as he poured a glass of wine for Mycroft. John had never seen Mycroft tipsy, not even close, could make for an interesting evening, or it could be a disaster. At least Greg was there to keep him out of John's hair, and he didn't seem to mind listening to Mycroft drone on, so he left them to it.

Mike arrived next, then Mrs. Hudson had arrived with Mrs. Turner and her married ones, they seemed like decent enough blokes, one was an artist/poet/waiter, while the other was a lawyer, they weren't too posh or overly curious. Angelo had stopped by to drop off enough food for an army, and a few candles, "Just in case -" he had then squinted at John, looking him over carefully, then nodded with satisfaction as he whispered, "Knew it. First time I saw you, John. Yer good for him, and if I'm not mistaken, he's made yer life a bit more exciting?"

John grinned and bit his lip, and knew he was blushing, but he found he didn't care in the least. He glanced down at his watch, then breathed a sigh of relief as he heard his phone ping.

 

Be there in two minutes. - Molly

Great. Thanks! - JW

 

John put his phone away and sighed. Suddenly he wasn't sure if he had done the right thing, they could have had a quiet night, just the two of them, who knows what might have happen - he heard Molly's voice first as the street door opened and closed.

"I promise, Sherlock, no one will get rid of the kidneys. You labeled them quite clearly, they will be fine."

Sherlock mumbled something inaudible but John heard his footsteps, not annoyed at least, they didn't sound suspicious, or anxious. Good, that was good. Right?

"Okay, everyone, when Molly opens the door, we'll yell 'Surprise!' Yeah?" He heard Mycroft grumble, but Lestrade shushed him good naturedly and the room went silent.

The door creaked open and John heard Molly's sharp intake of breath. He shrugged and jumped out from behind Sherlock's chair, "Surprise!!!" As the room exploded into applause and laughter, Sherlock glared at Molly, then froze.

Shit, John thought. Now I've done it. I've broken him, completely. He will never speak to me again. The room went silent, even Mycroft looked uncertain for the first time since John had known him.

"John?" Sherlock finally blinked, then looked around the room and took a deep breath, "Angelo's? Balloons? Cake - Mycroft, what the - Greg? John. You. You threw me a birthday party?"

John bit his lip, then nodded as he crossed over to him slowly. "Happy Birthday, Sherlock." He stood in front of his friend and waited.

"It's... the nicest... most absurdly irrational thing anyone has ever done for me." He touched John's face lightly, then smiled at him in a way that sent a shiver through him, and John was glad of the low light of the candles, knowing he was blushing madly. "Thank you, John."

 

In the end, John reflected, once everyone had finally departed long after midnight, it had been successful. Sherlock was as well behaved as John had ever known him to be; he tolerated the married ones, and they even managed to play a civil game of Cluedo, though he knew Sherlock was biting his tongue and trying his hardest not to roll his eyes. Mycroft and Greg spent most of their time in the kitchen, slowly demolishing the cake and the bottle of brandy, and John had laughed as he looked up to see a rather annoyed Anthea hovering at the door. He had invited her in, but she shook her head and waited in silent disapproval for her boss and his... John shook his head and tried not to think too hard about his role in setting his friend up with the 'most dangerous man in England.' Perhaps there was something in the cake, or maybe it was about time that Mycroft realized a bit of sentiment wasn't such a terrible idea. As he shut the door for the last time that night, John felt strong, lanky arms wrap around him cautiously. He sighed and leaned back against Sherlock's chest, and for the first time in his life, knew he was loved.

"I love you, too, Sherlock."

"But - I didn't say anything - how did you know? I mean, I wanted to say it first, but I was afraid it would come out all wrong -"

John turned in Sherlock's arms and gazed up into his brilliant, worried eyes. "I know because of how you are holding me, and how you are looking at me right now. No one has ever looked at me like that before."

"Like what, John?" Sherlock whispered as he nuzzled John's neck stopping suddenly as he heard John moan softly. "Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

John shook his head. "No. God, no, it's just that no one has ever found -"

"This?" John could feel Sherlock grin as he once again discovered his 'spot.'

"Uh-hmmmm." John could feel his knees about to buckle, when Sherlock swept him into his arms. "Damnnnnn -"

"Is this -" Sherlock whispered against John's ear, "acceptable?"

"Yes. Please? Will you - Do you want - I mean -"

"I have wanted everything with you since the moment, the very moment our eyes met. Did you know, John, could you tell?"

John nodded, unable to speak, as he watched Sherlock's iridescent eyes dance at him, evidently whatever he saw in John's eyes was enough.

"I love you, John."

"I'm sorry -"

"What for?" Sherlock murmured. John's heart skipped a beat as Sherlock's eyes turned to a dazzling green.

"I didn't get you a birthday present -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed heavily in that 'John, don't be an idiot' tone John knew so well. "Don't you know you are the only gift I will ever want, the only one I will ever need?"

"You are ridiculous." John mumbled as Sherlock captured his lips in a sweet, mind-altering kiss.

"If loving you makes me so, then so be it."

"Happy Birthday, love."

Sherlock froze and his eyes turned once more. "Say that again?"

John reached up to wipe a single tear from Sherlock's face. "Happy Birthday, my love. Now, I think it's time to unwrap your present."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of an epilogue. <3

"What're ya lookin' at?" Sherlock mumbled, as he slowly woke up the next morning; it was cold, and still snowing, and for once, he had no interest in leaving his bed in any great hurry.

John grinned down at him. "My heart. That is what you are, you know."

"And you thought me ridiculous." Sherlock snorted as he pushed his mop of curls out of his face so he could see John clearly. He wondered if he was any different this morning from the man he was yesterday. He launched himself at John and they snuggled down under the stack of quilts together.

"Power's out." John mumbled against Sherlock's lips.

"Seems to be."

"Whatever should we do?"

"Hmm. Got any ideas?"

"I have a book to read..."

Sherlock bit down gently on John's bottom lip, letting him know how he felt about Option A.

"Or not..." John shuddered as he flipped Sherlock onto his back. "I suppose we could just stay in bed and - " he grinned mischievously as Sherlock's eyes blazed away at him.

"And?" Sherlock's imagination ran wild as he closed his eyes, still becoming adjusted to John's warm body being so near to his, learning how to breathe normally as John ran his strong fingers gently over those places he thought no one would ever touch, let alone the man who mattered most to him, if he were to be completely honest with himself and the man who was now taking him apart inch by inch, he would happily give up the Work if it meant John would stay by his side.

"Hey, breathe, love." John threw the quilts off and pulled Sherlock into his arms. "Do you know, do you, how absolutely beautiful you are? Don't shake your head at me, you are. This morning, I watched your face, your brilliant eyes that see everything were wide open, your cheeks were flushed, and your lips," He ran a finger over Sherlock's full bottom lip and Sherlock couldn't help but moan. "Your astonishingly soft, brilliant lips - the words haven't been created yet, what they do to me."

For once, Sherlock couldn't process what he was seeing in John's face as he spoke. There was a light he had never seen before, a light that was his alone, and a gentle smile that warmed his cold insides graced the lips he would never kiss enough. Sherlock sighed deeply as John let his fingers fall into his morning tangles, and he gently tugged, shutting down any idea of logical thought. Instinct took over as Sherlock moved against the man beneath him, feeling how perfectly they fit together, and soon Sherlock was staring down into John's eyes, dark with golden flecks as his breath stuttered and he came, with Sherlock's name on his lips.

"Damn." John breathed out as Sherlock shivered against him. "Are you hungry? I think there's still cake left from last night."

Sherlock shook his head as his closed his eyes, and laid his hand over John's heart, the only thought in his head was his love's name as he fell fast asleep.


End file.
